


A Tibetan Tent Tale

by BiancaCastafarina



Category: Tintin (Comic), Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:30:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiancaCastafarina/pseuds/BiancaCastafarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tintin/Haddock SLASH. It's cold in that tent in the Himalaya. Very cold. Poor Tintin is freezing and asks the Captain to warm him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tibetan Tent Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the awesome Tintin kinkmeme on dreamwidth. That place is a treasure chest of ideas, stories and art.

If this is a Tibetan summer, then Tintin is scared to even imagine a Tibetan winter.

The inside of the tent becomes icier every night they hike up further the Himalayan mountains. The first nights he still fell asleep easily, especially when Sherpa Tharkey was wedged between him and Haddock, warming them both. But right now Tharkey is in the other tent with the other sherpas so they can listen to Bianca Castafiore on the radio.

Tintin is freezing. He pulls Snowy closer to him but the little dog doesn't offer much warmth.

The cold bites at his fingers and toes, creeps through every little gap and fiber of his clothing. Curled up like a fetus he breathes into his hands, but his body is still shivering. He does not know how long he has been awake, and is ready to cry with frustration because this sleepless night will sap his valuable engery that he will need for another long hike tomorrow.

The fact that Haddock next to him is snoring like a brontosaurus does not help him sleep. The Captain is only half in his sleeping bag, arms sprawled out as far as the cramped tent space allows. Perhaps it's the whisky that keeps him warm; he still drinks it despite the sherpas' warnings.

Tintin opens his sleeping bag a little so he can sit up and lean over the Captain whose figure is barely discernible in the darkness. He brings his face closer to Haddock's. There are no fumes on his breath.

Anyway: the Captain is warm, and Tintin, who is not, has an excuse. Half-stuck in his sleeping bag, Tintin shuffles closer to Haddock. Careful not to wake him, he presses himself against the older man's body, laying his arm around the Captain's broad chest, pressing his face against his side, smelling the faint, familiar scent of tobacco. A little clumsily, he wedges his feet – which are still in the sleeping bag – under Haddock's.

He is startled when he feels the Captain move, and then hears a familiar voice. „Thundering typhoons, Tintin! Is everything all right?"

 _Oh, crumbs!_ He's awake. Tintin quickly apologizes. „I'm sorry! It's just... I'm so cold." His voice sounds more whiny than he intends, and he can't stop a frustrated tear from rolling over his cheek. Luckily Haddock cannot see it in the darkness of the tent.

„Oh, my poor boy, why didn't you say so?" The Captain's voice is gentle, or perhaps it just sounds so because he's actually sleepy. „C'mon, I'll warm you." He hugs Tintin, enclosing him in his strong arms, and Tintin holds his breath. Only in his imagination has he ever been so close to Haddock. His face is pressed against the Captain's chest, and he can feel the man's heartbeat and his slow, relaxed breath.

„Still cold, lad?" he asks.

„Mm-hm." Tintin nods, then remembers how dark it is. „Yes", he says, and before he can stop himself, his thoughts blurt out of him. „Captain, lie on top of me."

There is a pause. „Well, I don't think it's a good idea, boy... you're so dainty, I'd crush you to pieces."

Tintin bites his lip. His hunger for warmth is becoming a more desperate, gnawing hunger for something else. The Captain's grip is warm and firm around his waist and shoulders, but he wants those hands elsewhere too. On his neck, his stomach, his behind, and everywhere else. Shyly, he asks, „I'm still cold... Would you rub me, Captain?"

Haddock does not hesitate. „Of course, lad. The last thing we need now is our expedition leader turning into an ice sculpture! … Relax, you'll be warm in a moment." He opens Tintin's sleeping bag further, then again embraces him and rubs Tintin's back. But the position is awkward and Tintin can't breathe easily with his face so close to Haddock's body; so the Captain eventually says, „Why don't you lie atop me, it's easier."

Tintin wants to protest – he is afraid the Captain will notice his growing arousal, but already Haddock has pulled Tintin on top of him, rubbing his back with large, warm hands. Tintin is getting harder, his erection wedged tightly between the stomachs of them both. _Crumbs!_

Haddock hesitates, and for a moment Tintin thinks it's all over – he expects to be pushed down, and scolds himself for being so foolish to think that the Captain might have the same indecent thoughts that he has. But Haddock does not push him down; instead, he lets his hand wander to Tintin's buttocks, slowly and still hesitating.

„Mmmh." Tintin makes a sound that he hopes will further encourage Haddock to touch him, and he rubs himself shamelessly against the Captain, making his state and intentions unmistakably clear. He's finally getting warm, even his face feels flushed. Cold? What cold? It feels amazing. „Archie", he moans.

Haddock grabs Tintin's behind with two large, warm hands; squeezing and caressing him.

Then, with a low grunt, Haddock pulls Tintin down from him, and presses himself against Tintin's back. Lying side to side, like teaspoons in a drawer, Haddock now grinds his pelvis againts Tintin's back, and soon Tintin lets out a surprised gasp: the Captain's erection feels big and hard.

The Captain's hands are all over him, then peeling away Tintin's sleeping bag, and reaching into his jacket. Tintin sighs at the arousing sensation of rough hands on smooth skin, and the Captain grinds harder, breathing fast and heavy onto Tintin's nape.

Tintin knows he is no longer in control of the situation, and usually a loss of control would scare him; but with Archie, he can allow himself to surrender because he trusts him – it feels _right_ , and overwhelmingly good.

Haddock is saying something, whispering into Tintin's ear with a low, hoarse voice, but Tintin cannot think clearly anymore. The Captain's hand grabs Tintin's erection, and the boy is unable to hold back a moan. He moves his own butt against the Captain's groin. The urge for release becomes stronger.

Haddock's hand is efficient and experienced; he works Tintin with fast, tight strokes, still grinding himself against the boy.

And Tintin can't hold back longer. _Mon Dieu,_ he thinks, _it feels so good, mon dieu!_ He cries out, his seed spilling over the Captain's hand.

Still breathing heavily, his mind in a foggy haze, he feels himself being pushed onto his back, and then Archie is over him and half-lying atop him, his erection grinding hard and hot against Tintin's stomach. He can barely see him in the darkness but he feels the warmth, hears the panting. Haddock has pulled Tintin's jacket all the way up to Tintin's collarbone, exposing his torso with its satiny, soft skin; and surprisingly Tintin doesn't feel cold. Only moments later, the Captain comes, too, squirting a few times all the way up to Tintin's chest.

Exhausted, he lets himself fall next to Tintin and dozes off within minutes. Tintin reaches for a handkerchief in his pockets and sleepily wipes his stomach. Zipping his sleeping bag all the way up, he feels satisfied and blissfully comfortable – and, most importantly, warm.


End file.
